


Triplet Drabbles

by Nutriyum_Addict



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Cute Kids, Driving, F/M, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6694084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutriyum_Addict/pseuds/Nutriyum_Addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Triplet drabbles originally posted on Tumblr and then on LiveJournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stephen the storyteller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is based on wafflesjunior’s awesome headcanon that Stephen is a long rambling storyteller. She said people could incorporate it into triplet fics, so I wrote this.

“And then Chip went to battle the ant monsters,” Stephen whispers to his parents, as they sit on the edge of his bed. The little boy’s stuffed teddy bear Chip is also all ready for bed, tucked in under the covers with the five year-old and the only light is the glow from the small nightlight in the corner of the room.

Ben and Leslie had finished reading a story to all the triplets about forty minutes ago, but then Stephen had wanted to tell his parents a bedtime story. The unexpected request was so cute that they eagerly agreed.

That was a half an hour ago. It’s slightly less cute now.

But only slightly, because it is still pretty much completely adorable, Leslie thinks. But long. It’s a very long story…with lots of twists and turns.

“That was very brave of Chip,” she whispers back, as she leans over to kiss her son’s forehead. She also gives Chip a kiss on his little furry teddy bear forehead.

“Goodnig–”

“Wait! There’s more!“ Stephen says, grabbing onto Leslie’s arm. “Ant monsters can fly and the eagles gave them wings. Before Chip was born.”

“Flying ants? Do they have cool robot ant wings?” Ben asks, sitting back down with apparent interest, but then Leslie turns around and gives him a look, so he adds, “Hey, buddy, why don’t you tell us more about the flying ants tomorrow?”

“But daddy, it’s impotent.”

Both of his parents make a confused face, then Leslie gets it and corrects the little boy with, “important. It’s important. And it is, but your brother and sister are already asleep. You should be too, honey.” To emphasize her point, Wesley quietly snores in the background.

“Ant monsters like donuts and cookies. But Chip likes ice cream. His favorite is vanilla.”

Leslie frowns. “Are you sure you don’t mean chocolate?”

Stephen shakes his head. “Vanilla, with bug sprinkles. The ant king likes cake.”

“Chocolate cake, right?” Leslie guesses. The cake must be chocolate. Who would like a plain vanilla cake? Certainly not royalty.

“Yes!” Stephen confirms with a smile. “Chocolate cake with wet pebbles. And the fight was with cake and pumpkins. Chip hurt his arm but Bobo flew him home.”

“That’s very exciting,” Ben responds, not bothering to mention that ostriches can’t fly. “But now you really should try to go to sleep. Because…um, the ant king told me that little boys need to be asleep by nine o'clock or the kingdom will be invaded by…mean ice cream hawks.”

Leslie smiles at her husband’s words and reaches back to take Ben’s hand.

“You can’t talk to ants, daddy,” Stephen says with a giggle, like Ben had just suggested the most ridiculous thing ever. “That’s silly. The ants talk like dinosaurs. I can tell you how that happened!”

“No,” Leslie and Ben both say at the same time, gently but firmly. Leslie gets up and Ben moves forward, leaning down to give both Stephen and Chip another kiss goodnight.

But Stephen is undeterred.

“Long ago, the dinosaurs liked magic parks and they kept them clean and pretty, so everyone could play. Just like mommy,” he begins.

Leslie sighs and sits back down on the edge of the bed with a smile. How can she resist an opening like that? She can hear Ben laugh quietly behind her as he runs his hand along her back.

“Alright, the short version. How did the dinosaurs meet the ants?” Ben asks, leaning back and getting comfortable.


	2. Ben and Leslie, teaching the triplets to drive

“So, hey. Hey,” Ben says, nervously walking into the kitchen while Leslie’s unloading the dishwasher. “Um, tomorrow, why don’t you just stay home and relax and I can take the kids out to practice driving?”

Leslie stares at him instead of grabbing another clean plate from the dishwasher. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I was just thinking maybe you’d want some time for craft stuff or something. You know, have the whole house to yourself and–”

“Why would I want the house to myself?”

“No. No, I just meant–”

What’s going on?“ She asks, walking towards him.

Ben is so bad at being sneaky and she knows that he’s trying to rearrange her plans with Sonia, Stephen, and Wesley for some reason that he doesn’t want to mention.

“Why don’t the kids want me to take them driving?”

He looks at her for a few seconds–kind of like a deer caught in headlights.

“Ben? Why don’t–”

“Alright,” he takes a breath. “Honey, you are so good at so many things. And you are a wonderful teacher, I just think that maybe it might be better if I took them tomorrow. You know, just kind of show them the basics and then you can take over, and um, fine-tune everything.”

The triplets were going to be starting driver’s ed in a couple of months at school and Ben and Leslie had thought it would be nice to start giving them driving lessons so that the kids had some idea of what to do when the class started. Nothing too involved, just empty parking lots and deserted side streets.

Leslie had spent a couple of hours with them last weekend and she had thought it went well.

She ran through last week’s events in her head–binder review, safety quiz, obstacle course she set up in the parking lot. Post-lesson wrap-up of what they each needed to work on this week. Scorecards filled in. Yep, it all seemed good.

“What? Last weekend was fine. Why don’t–”

“I just think, I mean, you’re…a little intense and detail-orientated sometimes. Which is good! It’s so good, but I think that for this, maybe I could–”

“What? We all had waffles and then the kids and I went to the parking lot. They all did a good job.”

“You yelled at Stephen. You gave Sonia a D. And Wesley told me all the photos you took while he was driving made him nervous.”

“Stephen was going to hit a stop sign!” Leslie says. “Sonia ran over three of my cones. And what? I’m not supposed to make a learning to drive scrapbook? Oh my god, Ben, you would have yelled too if you saw how fast we were approaching that stop sign.”

He nods. “Probably. But it’s just also all the binders and the checklists, going over the alcohol chart, the photos, and then the yelling…which was justified. I know you only yelled at Stephen because you needed him to stop the car quickly, and he knows that too, but you know, he’s a little sensitive sometimes, and–”

“So what you’re saying is, you’re the fun one and I’m the yelling one.”

He makes a face. “Babe. You know that’s not true. You are completely the fun one. I’m just maybe…a little more patient? A little less planned out? I don’t know. Look, they’ll probably go out with me tomorrow, it’ll be completely boring, and then they’ll be begging for you to take them again. Let’s just give it a try.”

He walks the rest of the way over and wraps his arms around her.

“The chart is important,” she says stubbornly. “I know we want to think they’re not going to be drinking yet, but Ben, once they start driving…” she trails off.

“Absolutely,” Ben agrees, giving her a kiss. “The chart is very important and they will all be carrying copies of the chart with them at all times. Agreed. And you can still make them binders and even quiz them about safe driving.”

“Okay,” she says, relenting.

Fine. Maybe the obstacle course was a little much.

Leslie rests head against his shoulder and says, “You know, my dad never got to take me out to practice driving. You should take them. It’ll be a nice memory.”

She pulls her head back to look at him. Ben smiles and kisses her again.

“But I’m taking photos as you leave the house and I’m still making a scrapbook.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he says, pulling her in for another kiss.


	3. Sonia Paints Ben's Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt.

“Daddy, can I paint your toes?”

Ben looks up from the papers spread out in front of him and focuses on his six year-old daughter.

“Does mommy know you have that?” She’s holding a bottle of pink sparkly nail polish and Ben distinctly remembers Leslie having a conversation with Sonia just the other day about her playing with her mother’s make-up things without permission.

“Yes,” Sonia nods solemnly. “She gave me this one. It’s mine as long as I leave the others alone.”

“Well, why don’t you paint your toes then?”

Sonia pulls her pant legs up to reveal her toes and yep, all ten are light pink and sparkly.

“Well, how about your fingernails?”

Sonia makes an exaggerated groan and thrusts her little hands towards him, all ten fingers–pink.  
Ben laughs.

“I wanna paint yours! Don’t worry, I’m good at it!”

He has a quick late afternoon conference call in about five minutes with his staff, but then Sonia is looking at him with her big adorable eyes. And really, isn’t this why he works at home on Tuesdays anyway? So he can have moments like this after the triplets get home from school?

“The boys are being stupid and I’m bored. Please?”

“Your brothers are not stupid.”

“They’re trying to put all of the shoes in our room into a tower. It keeps falling over.”

“Okay, well, that is a little silly,” Ben agrees. “But pink sparkly polish?”

Sonia nods. “Like a fairy! We’ll match!”

He considers this and supposes a fairy isn’t that far away from an elf king.

“Okay, but you have to be quiet, daddy has a phone call to make.”

“Yay!” Sonia shouts and then covers her mouth, her eyes going all wide, making Ben smile. She quickly and quietly gets down on the floor and eagerly pulls his socks off.

A few minutes later, Ben is going over some details with his staff, while Sonia slowly and painstakingly colors in all ten of his toenails a lovely shade of sparkly, glimmering pink.

When he gets off the call, her surveys her work.

“Nice job.”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and she smacks her little palm against his.

“You have pretty toes now,” his daughter declares.

“Um, thank you? Now, let’s go take a look at this shoe tower upstairs, huh?”

LATER THAT NIGHT:

“Babe? Your toes are pink?” Leslie asks, crawling into bed beside him.

Ben pushes his right foot towards her and pokes her gently in the thigh.

“Yep, courtesy of Sonia. Oh and I hope you gave her that pink nail polish. I believed her but I guess she could have been making that up.”

“Yeah,” Leslie says. “That one is hers. Hmmmmm…”

He watches as she crawls down further and kind of examines his toes up close. Then Leslie kisses the top of his foot.

“What?”

“This is kind of sexy.”

Ben makes a face. “Really? My pink sparkly toes? Let me guess–-is it elf king-ish?”

She turns her head to look back at him and nods, and then Leslie quickly straddles him facing the wrong way, her head just around his knees as she continues to look at his toes.

But then she wiggles up a bit and her face is no longer by his…feet.

“Uh, what’s happening?” Ben asks, staring at her ass. She still has her pajama bottoms on but it’s definitely working for him regardless.

“What do you think is happening, my good with numbers husband?”

“Oh my god,” Ben responds, as he starts to tug Leslie’s floral pajama pants down. “Sonia is the best wingman ever.”


	4. Bobo's Full Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Written for wafflesjunior on tumblr.

“But why is this one named Margo T. Cuddlepants?” Beautiful, visiting-from-Michigan Ann asks in a Russian accent, picking up the stuffed giraffe and holding her up from the spot on the sofa next to Leslie.

Before being tucked into bed by all the adults in the house, Sonia had left a small squad of stuffed animals to keep Leslie and Ann company, including Margo T. Cuddlepants, Waffle-nose, a teddy bear, and Piney, a monkey.

Leslie laughs and explains, “Because I thought she needed a middle initial and last name to make her more dignified and I told Ben and then, he told Sonia. I had been drinking whiskey with Ron in the old Parks department office and–”

“Oh, that night Ben locked you and Ron up together?”

Leslie nods. “But I still stand by the name. Very dignified.”

“But seriously? That was a strange plan. I’m still surprised it worked,” Ann comments, pulling waffle-nose onto her lap.

The two women are on the couch, sharing an after-dinner bottle of wine after the three five year-old triplets had gone to bed.

“Well, it did,” Ben interjects from his spot at the dining room table, where he’s working on his tablet. “So, I wish people would quit criticizing it.”

Leslie giggles at that, as Ann asks, “But what about the ostrich?”

“Oh! That’s her favorite. His name is Bobo and he’s very judgmental and condescending, at least I think so.”

“And he likes crackers,” Ben pipes in soberly. “Very expensive crackers.”

“Well, I think Bobby, Bono, um Bobo needs a full name too,” Ann says and then hiccups.

Leslie nods. “Good plan. What are you thinking?”

“How about…J. Bobert Feathershire?”

“What’s the J for?” Leslie asks.

Ann gives it some thought for a second or two and shouts out, “jelly beans! Oh, sorry. Jelly beans,” she whispers.

At Ann’s outburst, Ben walks into the living room and stops in front of the couch. “Okay, I’m going upstairs. You two need anything?”

“Jelly beans!” Leslie requests, while Ann nods and then takes another sip of wine. “We still have two years’ worth of Oscars to get through.”

“Um, I don’t think we have–”

“Yes we do. In the cabinet next to the glasses, behind the pasta and the brown rice.”

“Ah, of course. The secret jelly bean hiding place. Okay one bowl of jelly beans coming up, goofball,” he tells them, pausing to kiss the top of Leslie’s head. He looks over at Ann, and says, “Sorry, goofballs. You are both goofballs.”

As he turns around and heads towards the kitchen, Leslie whistles at his still-perfect and adorable butt.

“Let me guess. Enjoying the view, babe?” Ben asks without even bothering to turn around.

“Wasn’t me,” she tells him. “That was J. Bobert Feathershire.”

“Oh! The third!” adds Ann. “J. Bobert Feathershire the Third. And he liiiikes you.”

 

Of course, Bobo is upstairs with Sonia, but neither Leslie or Ann seem too concerned about that detail as they clink glasses and giggle drunkenly.


	5. Lazy Fall Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall cliches!

“Daddy, here.”

Ben holds his hand out and a much littler, mittened-hand pushes a bright red leaf into his palm.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Ben tells his daughter. Sonia giggles like the enthusiastic mini-Leslie that she is and turns, her long blonde hair flying as she runs back to her brothers.

The triplets are attempting to use small, child-size rakes to “help daddy” and get all the leaves pushed into organized piles. Of course, it’s clearly more playing than raking, as the yard possibly looks even messier than when they started, but then Ben is just planning on raking for real later. This is really more of a scrapbook photo op, so he’s completely content to just sit on the steps of the back deck, surrounded by all the pumpkins that Leslie has been buying lately.

He’s smiling and laughing and taking pictures as their three precocious four year-olds spend a sunny but chilly Sunday afternoon playing in the fall leaves.

Ben hears the back door open and soon Leslie’s sitting beside him, but not before he quickly moves all of Sonia’s carefully curated leaves out of the way.

“What are those?” She asks, with a glance towards the leaves, while also handing him a mug of hot apple cider.

“A present from Sonia.”

“Oh, that’s so cute.” Leslie snuggles against him, as Ben’s arm wraps around her.

“I know, right?” Ben agrees with a smile, kissing the side of her chin.

“We can press some and put them in the scrapbook too.”

As if on cue, Sonia runs over again, her rake not quite making the whole trip and she hands him another leaf, this one bright yellow and orange. Then she climbs into Ben’s lap as Leslie carefully grabs the mug out of his hands to safely make room for their daughter.

“Is this one for me too?” He holds it up and examines it.

Sonia nods and buries her head against his shoulder.

“Daddy, it’s a leaf. And it’s pretty and…” she trails off as she sits up and starts playing with his hair. She says something else but he can’t quite make out what she’s talking about even though she stretches up and whispers right near his ear. It’s something adorable and nonsensical about pancakes and ponies.

Or maybe hamsters and pennies?

“Thank you. Do you want to find a leaf for mommy too?”

“Oh, can you find me a pretty leaf, honey?”

Sonia nods eagerly and gets off her father, moving over to her mom’s lap for a quick hug and kiss, all while Ben can’t resist tickling Sonia around her stomach, making her squeal and laugh, but she doesn’t really make any effort to get away.

He’s once again struck by how affectionate his and Leslie’s kids are–he thinks it must be a mark in the nurture column, as he can’t really remember his family ever being like this.

His parents definitely did not spend all that much time hugging and kissing in front of him and his siblings before the divorce. It was a lot more like yelling and judgmental glaring.

After an appropriate amount of cuddles, Sonia finally heads off to find her rake and runs back to the center of the yard. Wesley and Stephen have abandoned their own plastic lawn implements and have started just throwing the leaves at each other and when their sister joins them, she quickly finds herself covered in their leaves. To both Ben and Leslie’s relief, instead of crying, she gets down on the ground and starts gathering everything into a pile with her hands.

As they watch the kids, Leslie tells him, “We should go get pumpkins to carve later this afternoon.”

Ben makes a face and looks around the deck, his hands out for emphasis. “Um, what are–”

“These are for decorations, not actual carving, babe.”

“Oh,” he says, turning towards her, nodding and grinning. “Okay, sure. We need some carving pumpkins. Good call.”

There’s a few kisses and some whispered flirtations (including her telling him that when they get inside, she wants to warm up his chilly and perfect butt with her hands), before Sonia calls out to them.

Ben and Leslie watch as she smiles and then pushes her brothers down into her big pile of leaves.

“Oh, hey, don’t…” Ben starts to yell out to them, all while Leslie kind of giggles but also stands in concern.

Soon, both he and Leslie are in the yard too, rolling around and playing in the leaves with their little monsters.


	6. Grocery Store Fiasco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben takes the triplets to the grocery store. Chaos ensues.

Later, when all three kids are finally upstairs napping and he’s collapsed on the couch, Ben will wonder why he was so optimistic about a quick trip to the grocery store, just him and the triplets.

When Leslie’s rubbing the knots in his shoulders and it feels so amazingly good, he’ll decide that he should definitely have just stayed at home with the kids while Roz was sick with the flu and his wife was busy with meetings, and not tried to go on a field trip.

But a couple of hours before all of this happens–-before Leslie’s backrub and her soothing concern, Ben is feeling very good about everything.

To start, he can’t believe his luck when he pulls the mini-van into the parking lot and right away sees one of those shopping carts with the small plastic car attached to the front, just few steps from the mini-van. The kind with seats for two down below and one up in the traditional child’s seat–it’s like it was made for triplets. Noisy, adorable, monster-triplets like his and Leslie’s almost-three year olds.

“Alright, who wants to drive a car?” Ben asks the backseat and gets eager responses like “yay!” and “cookies!” and other giggly screams that don’t really resemble words that he can make out. He smiles regardless, happy that everyone seems on board with this quick shopping plan. And really, everything does go super smoothly at first.

Ben gets everyone settled (stuffed animals included) in the over-sized cart, and he easily grabs the milk and some chicken breasts for dinner–he even avoids going down the candy aisle and having the kids shout out for chocolate. And really, the only thing that gets added impulsively is when Sonia reaches for a box of crackers off the shelf because they are, “BoBo’s favorite.”

It’s just when he checks on the boys after adding some granola to the cart (along with Leslie’s preferred sugar-loaded cereal that he figures they’ll need to start hiding soon), that he glances down and notices that he only has one son.

Shit.

“Stephen?” Ben calls out, standing up quickly to look around the cereal aisle, before crouching down again. “Wes, where did your brother go?”

“Daddy, get carrots,” his other son calmly requests, seemingly unconcerned about his missing sibling. Ben stands back up and starts wheeling the cart down the aisles that they’ve previously been, looking for his little lost triplet.

He couldn’t have gone that far, right?

As they pass the produce section, Wesley is now full-on yelling for carrots, so Ben grabs the closest vegetable–corn on the cob, and hands it to his son, hoping that it will appease him for just a bit while he searches for Stephen.

Next, there’s a brief stop in the deli aisle so Ben can ask an employee if he’s seen a small, three-foot tall boy in a blue and green plaid shirt.

No such luck.

“Whoa, dude,” the young staffer says, before Ben can wheel away. “Your kid just ate a big handful of blue cheese.”

“Wait, what?” Ben crouches down to look at Wesley, who is obliviously playing with his corn cob, and then back up. “No, he has some corn. What are you–”

“No, not that one. That one,” he says, pointing to Sonia.

Ben’s eyes widen as he examines his daughter. “Sonia, did you eat–”

“Cheese!” she finishes for him, and then adds “stinky,” with a bit of regret.

Before he can even start to deal with the cheese crisis (not to mention the bigger missing-son crisis), he hears his name.

“Ben? Ben Wyatt?”

He turns around and of course it’s…Shauna Malwae-Tweep, which Ben supposes is at least better than Joan Callamezzo.

Shauna’s smiling and holding a hand basket filled with a couple of bottles of wine and two steaks, which in comparison to his own cart which includes items like training pants, cereal, milk, and stuffed ostrich-approved crackers, makes Ben just a bit nostalgic. He can remember the days of buying just a few groceries for a quiet dinner in, just him and Leslie.

And for the briefest of seconds, he also lets himself recall kissing Shauna Malwae-Tweep in a parking lot, that night long ago, when the world didn’t end and later, Leslie knocking on his door impatiently and promising to not get in the way of his and Shauna’s future children.

Ben holds in a laugh at both the irony and also one of his wife’s only successful attempts at being sneaky.

“Shauna, hi. Hi there. Have you seen Stephen?”

“Is he one of your–”

“Yeah. He escaped,” Ben explains quickly, feeling a lot calmer than he actually is–quite honestly, he’s nearing panic-mode at this point. “I just…” Ben trails off and squints behind Shanuna after something catches his eye–a little flash of plaid and a small hand inside the dairy case windows.

Seriously?

“Um, hey, Shauna, could you, um, watch these two for just a second? I think I found him.”

Ben hardy waits for a response before he rushes towards the milk, easily finding a propped open door to the cooler and there Stephen is, trying to pull a gallon of 2% off the shelf and onto his head. He’s instantly filled with relief but then also panic again as Stephen manages to budge the large, heavy container just a bit.

“Stop,” he says quickly, running over to reach his son–his curious, sweets-obsessed, goofy little boy. The one that he secretly thinks takes after Leslie the most.

“Stephen, you scared me,” Ben says, picking up and holding his son tightly.

He walks back out into the main area of the store and sets Stephen down just briefly enough to take off his own jacket off and wrap it around the boy, before kneeling down and hugging him again, this time to try and warm him up.

“Cows!” Stephen shouts gleefully. “Cold cows daddy! No ice cream. I want a cookie plate, please.”

“No, honey. There are no cows at the grocery store. Just milk. And no ice cream or cookies. Hey,” Ben tugs on his sons little hands gently to get his attention, before leaning in and first kissing his forehead. “Listen. Please don’t wander off again,” he says and then notices Shauna looking over, notebook in hand. Ben sighs. “Hey, thanks for–”

“Oh, no problem. Glad he turned up so quickly.”

“Yeah. Me too,” he answers and honestly, Ben would never trade his shopping cart for one like hers even if he could. He loves his noisy, messy, completely bonkers shopping cart more than anything.

After getting Stephen back safely in the lower part of the cart, behind the fake steering wheel and right next to Wesley (and his brother’s pet corn cob that is now apparently named carrot-Bob), Ben turns his attention to his daughter and her smelly, sticky hands. Cute, adorable little hands that normally he would kiss and pretend to eat and smile at her giggles and squeals but now, hands that kind of make him want to shudder.

Why couldn’t she have eaten a bunch of cheddar samples?

“How do you feel, Sonia?” he asks softly, pushing some of her blonde hair off her face. “Is your tummy okay?”

Ben sighs in relief as she nods at him, seemingly unaffected from the god knows how many blue cheese crumbles she managed to scarf down. At least there were no tooth picks to slow her down or poke an eye out, Ben thinks gratefully.

It’s a fast trip back through the aisles, the closest route to the checkout area being aisle three, when one triplet, (he thinks it’s Wesley), starts to sing and yell out the Turtle Song.

Except, the typical driving force behind the turtle song is Leslie, usually during bath time and without her, the kids just remember the main parts–turtle jeans! poop beans! Toes! Knees! which they shout out and laugh at, all while asking him to sing along.

But mainly, and unsurprisingly he supposes, it’s the poop beans part they seem most fond of.

“Poop turtles!” Wesley adds once for good measure, and then breaks into loud laughter and squeals, before quietly saying, “uh-oh.”

They’ve started working on potty training at home, so Ben has a pretty good idea what uh-oh means. He shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead.

“Sing with us, daddy!” Sonia demands again.

“Oh, I think maybe we should wait until we get home,” he tells them, relieved that the self-checkout is empty and clear.

Minutes later, he manages to leave the store with one bag of groceries, all three kids, and maybe three-fifths of his dignity, his nerves only slightly frayed.

Once in the mini-van, Ben begins to finally relax. Everyone is safe, they have milk and things for dinner. Maybe this was okay?

He continues to assume that the drive home will be fairly uneventful, which of course, is the exact moment he hears Sonia start to cry. They’re on a quiet street just two blocks from the house, so Ben turns briefly to look and is just in time to see his adorable, little blonde daughter projectile-vomit all over the backseat.

“Daddy,” she cries out afterwards and Ben manages to pull over quickly, grab some napkins from the glove compartment, and get out of the car. When he gets the back door open, she seems to be done throwing up, but of course both her and the back seat are covered in partially digested blue cheese crumbles…and no one present was wearing a poncho.

Thankfully, both Wesley and Stephen seem too shocked to cry and moderately un-hit in terms of the mess.

“Oh, sweetie, are you okay?” It seems like a silly question, but Ben is not sure where else to start.

He gently uses the napkins to clean her off the best he can for now, and then stinky cheese smell be damned, he unbuckles her from the car seat and picks her up, hugging her tight, all while she cries and says his name.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I don’t blame you. Blue cheese is gross. You’re okay,” he repeats, already running through his head all the foods that thirty-two month olds can safely eat, relieved to remember that blue cheese is definitely on the list. “We’ll get you home and cleaned up. It’s okay. Are you okay? Does your tummy hurt now?” He’s rubbing her back while she snuggles her face against his shoulder.

“I’m okay daddy,” she answers finally, with just the barest trace of a sniffle.

Ben gets her buckled back in and is about to shut the door when Wesley holds up his hand and proudly says, “Daddy look!”

He decides to deal with the stolen candy bars tomorrow.

Once safely inside the house, it seems easier to just give all three kids a bath to make sure the cheese mishap is fully dealt with. So, everyone except him is naked and mostly clean and thankfully, the only other situation was when Wesley tried unsuccessfully to flush his socks down the toilet. But now, wet and soapy, the triplets seems almost as tired as he is.

He’s hoping that they’ll be easy to get down for an hour or two after he gets them out of the tub, so he can try to do some work. Or set fire to the mini-van, Ben hasn’t quite decided yet.

He does, however, decide to end bath time with the earlier-requested turtle song.

“Turtles wear jeans and they poop out beans, they don’t wear clothes when they wash between their…” he pauses, letting Sonia, Wesley, and Stephen do their part and respond, “toes!” as each child reaches down into the water to touch their toes.

Ben laughs and continues. “They climb up a tree, even though they don’t have…”

“Knees!”

“Okay, now let’s get everyone out of the tub and ready for nap time, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” come the sleepy, easy responses.

When Leslie comes home and finds him on the couch a bit later, he’s exhausted for sure, but also content–especially when she tells him she’s not going back to work that afternoon.

No wait, content is not quite the right word, super-fucking-relieved is more like it.

And if Shauna does write something about the grocery store fiasco, he’s pretty sure he and Jen can probably spin this as an example of his good crisis management skills.

The whole episode actually reminds Ben that whenever he and Leslie are together and a unified team, they are just better at everything, whether it’s a city council campaign, a congressional campaign, eating a crazy amount of French macarons, or attempting a family grocery store outing.

Also…they really need to give Roz a raise.


	7. Grocery Store Fiascao (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the dialogue prompt: " I'm not leaving you"

When she gets home at lunch, the first thing Leslie sees is Ben, his head resting against the back of the couch, with his eyes closed. His tie is off and he looks, well…he looks exhausted. Her poor worn-out, sexy husband and it’s still so early in the day.

“Babe?”

“Yeah,” he answers weakly.

“How is everything? Are the kids–”

“Nap. Finally.”

“Good.” She slips her shoes off and sits down next to him. With Roz out with the stomach flu, April and Andy busy working on Johnny Karate that day, and her mom on a cruise, they had to get creative with childcare. And since she had the heavier meeting load, Ben had stayed home with the kids.

“What can I do?”

“Don’t leave me.”

She smiles. “I’m not leaving you. In fact, I’m not just home for lunch, I changed my two and four PM meetings into conference calls, so I can work from home this afternoon if you want to go in.”

“You did?” Ben finally opens his eyes, looks at her, and smiles.

“Yes.”

“Oh god, you are amazing,” he responds. “But it’s been a crazy day this morning and I think we should both stick around.”

“Crazy how?”

“We went to the grocery store and Stephen got lost.”

“What? Why didn’t you call? Is he–” Before her brain can even make the jump to a million horribly scenarios, Ben interrupts her.

“No, no, he’s fine. It was only about five minutes but somehow he got inside the dairy case and while I was pushing the cart around looking for him, Sonia reached out and grabbed a bunch of blue cheese samples in the deli area, ate them, and then threw up in the car on the way home. Oh yeah, and Wesley stole a handful of candy bars, probably while I was checking out,” Ben tells her. “But not before they all sang the turtle song at the top of their lungs in aisle three.”

The turtle song was about a turtle who pooped beans and wore jeans.

“So, a special thank you for teaching them how to rhyme,” Ben adds.

“Oh no, honey,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand so Ben can’t hear her laughing. And while the turtle song is a family favorite during bath time, it’s probably not the best choice for the grocery store.

“And Shauna Malwae-Tweep was at the store too so expect a headline tomorrow like, _Congressional Candidate and City Manager Can’t Manage Children, Poop Beans in Aisle Three_. And then I’m pretty sure Jen is going to call and yell at me.”

“Awww, babe,” she says and then pauses, reigning in her impulse to come up with a better headline for him. “I’m sorry. Sit up.”

“Why?”

“Sit up,” Leslie says again, pushing her hand against his back. He does and Leslie settles behind him, bringing her hands up to his shoulders. She pushes her thumbs into his back, while her fingers put pressure in the front.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

“Good. I’m sorry you had a challenging morning.”

Ben sighs. “It’s okay, it was just really scary when Stephen disappeared and then I had to pull over and try to clean Sonia up. She was crying and covered in blue cheese and that was pretty awful and then Wesley showed me all the stolen candy. Just held his hand up and said, _daddy look_!”

“Is Sonia okay now?”

“Yeah,” Ben’s voice soften considerably. “Yeah. Apparently she felt just fine after puking blue cheese all over the back seat.”

“And still, not the worst thing that’s ever happened back there,” Leslie says, pushing her fingers along his spine.

Ben snorts. “Nope. That would be the exploding diaper fiasco of last winter.”

They both laugh.

“We should give Roz a raise,” Ben says, and then pulls her hands down from his shoulders so she can lean forward against his back. He kisses the skin on her right wrist.

Leslie rests her chin against his shoulder. “Or at least a bonus. Okay, how about this, new rule–-when we go to the store, we try to do it when the other one is home, so two kids can stay home and one can go. That would probably be more manageable.”

“Good plan,” Ben agrees. “Hey, I was serious earlier-–don’t ever leave me.”

“I’m never, _ever_ going to leave you,” she assures him. “And you never leave me.”

“Not a chance,” Ben tells her. “So do you think I should I return the candy bars tomorrow? I mean, if he were a little older I would explain about stealing and have him give them back, but he’s not quite there yet, he just liked the colorful wrappers and has no concept of money.”

“What kind did he get?”

“Snickers and a couple of Toblerones.”

“Mmmmm…”


	8. That One Time Stephen Got Expelled from School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kind of borrowed a bit from an episode of Madam Secretary… ;-)

“You punched another kid?” Ben asks again, still feeling a bit incredulous, as he drives Stephen home from school at eleven in the morning.

“Yeah, but dad–”

“You broke his nose,” Ben adds, shaking his head. And although he’s upset, he’s also maybe secretly just a little bit impressed that his son can throw a punch so well.

“I didn’t mean to. It just–”

“Your mom was just elected governor a few months ago, she’s barely in office,” he tells the thirteen year-old seriously. “You can’t go around hitting people and getting suspended.”

“I know, but dad, listen. Matt is a jerk, a bully. He’s from Indianapolis and thinks he’s better than anyone else. He said since mom is from Pawnee, as governor she’s going to make everyone… _fellate_ drinking fountains,” Stephen pauses. “I had to look fellate up on my tablet and…” he trails off, blushing slightly and looking just a bit freaked out.

Ben cringes. “Okay, that’s not even…I mean, look, um, we took…the Parks Department took all the splash guards off the drinking fountains like fifteen years ago so that doesn’t even happen anymore. If anything, your mom’s old office helped people not fellate public–”

“Oh my god, dad. Please stop saying _mom_ and _fellate_ in the same sentence.”

Ben stops, thankful for the request.

“And also, he said Pawnee was stupid and mom was stupid, and I just…couldn’t take it anymore. So, I accidentally punched him.”

“Stephen, I understand, I do.” Of course Ben absolutely understands. One minute you can be acting completely professional and the next, someone calls the person you love a name and then you’re holding your injured hand while cameras flash around you. “But son, you can’t just go around punching people.”

Stephen starts to say something and Ben interrupts him with, “even if they’re a jerk.”

* * *

“He’s suspended?” Leslie asks in disbelief when she gets home that night. “Stephen? Our sweet, polite kid that loves cookies, drawing, and baseball? Stephen who practically cries every time we watch a Toy Story movie? Suspended? For hitting someone?“

Ben smiles despite the severity of the situation. “Yep. I know. But it’s a private school, babe. They take this stuff seriously. And now we all have to go in tomorrow morning and meet with the principal.”

“Where is–”

“Our little slugger is cooling his jets up in his room. So, this Matt kid at school was apparently saying things about you and Pawnee and…Stephen decided to defend everyone’s honor.”

“Oh, that is…oh,” Leslie looks up towards the stairs as she starts to tear up a little. “He did that? Stephen–”

“Yes,” Ben nods. “He did that. And yes, I also know you think it’s sweet, and it is on one level, but he also broke a kid’s nose and now he’s also suspended. I also had to have a sex talk with him centered around blow jobs and drinking fountains, so let’s just appreciate the weight here, okay?”

Leslie makes a confused face. “Wait. What?”

Later that night, they did a little role-play. And Ben was the drinking fountain.

* * *

“Governor Knope,” Principal McCall greets, shaking Leslie’s hand. “And Congressman Wyatt, thank you for coming in. Stephen,” she says to the youngest member of the group with a nod.

Everyone sits down around the circular table in the principal’s office at Randall Academy. It’s about forty minutes outside of Pawnee and is also one of the best private schools in the Midwest. The last ten Indiana governors with school-age children sent their kids here and pretty much the morning after winning the election, Leslie enrolled their own.

Apparently, Ben thinks, if you are about to become a sitting governor, it’s pretty easy to get your three thirteen year-olds into a fancy private school.

“I am so sorry that this happened,” Leslie starts. “We definitely did not raise Stephen to go around punching people,” she says and then lowers her voice before adding, “even if they are acting like jerks.”

Ben sighs.

“What was that last part?” The principal asks.

“Nothing. Nothing. Principal McCall, I can assure you that Stephen knows that he shouldn’t punch someone and that he’s very sorry.”

“Are you Stephen?” The principal asks the boy. “Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry his nose got broken. Yes.”

“Stephen,” Ben warns. He’s not quite sure what he’s going to say next but then his son starts talking.

“Dad! Matt’s a jerk! He said those things about mom and Pawnee, and he also teases this shy girl who has a lisp and this really smart kid just because he’s from India, and he’s just…a jerk. So, yeah, I’m sorry I broke his nose, I honestly did not mean to do that and I feel bad about it, but I’m not sorry I stood up for myself, and mom, and the greatest city in the world.” Stephen pauses, before for adding, “I was talking about Pawnee, there.”

Everyone is quiet until he principal says, “Well, that’s not a proper apology.”

Leslie makes a face, a very resolved, determined face that makes Ben realize what’s coming next.

“What? He apologized,” Leslie insists.

“Stephen clearly didn’t mean it,” the older woman returns. “This academy is built on integrity, honesty, and civility, and that was not a sincere apology in the least.”

“Okay, hold on. Our son is full of integrity and honesty,” Ben says, getting a little upset himself. “The only reason he punched that kid, who by the way, does sound like a major bully, is because he was following his conscience. So maybe he wasn’t as civil as he should have been, but he wanted to defend his mother and his hometown.”

“And also,” Leslie adds, standing up, “how do you know that he doesn’t mean it? Are you psychic?”

“Governor Knope,” the principal says before also standing. “I’m not psychic, but that was not sincere.  
He’s not sorry he punched Matthew, he’s sorry he got suspended and is about to get expelled.”

“Expulsion? You’re going to expel my son?” Leslie asks, clearly surprised.

“If he doesn’t apologize properly and mean it, then yes.”

As the two women stare at each other, Ben tries to diffuse the situation by saying, “Alright, maybe we should all take a moment and–”

“Well…we expel you!” His wife says hotly. “Check and mate, Principal McCall.”

“Oh boy, okay. Honey, we sill have two kids who go here. Maybe you should cool it just a little?” Ben looks from his wife to his son, taking in Stephen’s wide-eyed, shocked face and appreciates the fact that at least their son doesn’t seem overly happy about the current situation.

“I believe we’re done. Governor Knope, Congressman Wyatt. Sonia and Wesley are of course welcome here and seem to be thriving, but I’m not sure this is the best fit for Stephen. Perhaps public school might be a better option?”

There’s something in her tone that bothers Ben. He frowns and stands up. “What does that mean?”

“Okay, babe. Let’s not–”

He interrupts Leslie to add, “There’s nothing wrong with public education, Principal McCall, and the Pawnee public schools have improved greatly. It’s one of the issues that I’ve worked very hard on over the last ten years and I’m proud of it.”

“Then I’m sure Stephen will excel there. But he won’t be attending Randall Academy anymore.”

* * *

“I’m uh, really sorry,” Stephen says sheepishly in the car on the way home.

“Are you?” Leslie asks, turning around in the passenger’s seat to look at their son. “Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

“Yeah. I am. But mom, I didn’t like it there. It was stuck up and the kids were snobby and I know Wes and Sonia like it, and that’s great, but I don’t. I want to go to Pawnee Junior High…just like you did.”  
Ben glances in the rearview mirror and although he doesn’t doubt that Stephen is being sincere, he also thinks he’s working it maybe just a little bit.

He also knows that he and Leslie haven’t really had time to discuss a punishment, but Ben hopes she has his back here.

“Well, good. Because that’s what’s happening,” Ben says, turning into their driveway. “And don’t think that you’re just going to hang around the house playing online games and being lazy while we get you enrolled at Pawnee Junior High, either. You’re going to have lots to do while you’re grounded for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks? But I thought you guys understood why–”

“Um, seriously?” Ben asks. “You punched someone, Stephen. And yes, I know he was a jerk and we do understand why you did it, but that doesn’t make it okay, and you know that. And you got expelled.”

“Well, technically, mom expelled the school,” Stephen tells them.

Leslie turns around again. “Hey, my little slugger who I love very much? You want to make it three weeks?”

“No. Sorry. Two weeks is good,” Stephen says, as Ben and Leslie share a quick smile in the front seat.


	9. Triplets giving their sad parents cuddles

“Mommy, don’t cry,” the little boy says, and without even waiting for a response, he crawls into her lap all warm and snuggily, right where she’s sitting on the couch. At four, their little triplets are still at the age where they think everything can be solved by hugs.

And really, Leslie thinks, they’re not that wrong. She wraps her arms around him and hugs him close.

“Oh, Stephen, thank you. It’s okay, Mommy’s just sad, but I’m much better now.”

“I’m helping?” He asks, looking up at her with big eyes.

“Yes,” Leslie agrees, leaning down to kiss the top of his adorable and messy little bed-head.

When Ben comes down the stairs a few minutes later with Sonia and Wesley holding hands in front of him, both still in their pajamas–in fact, Ben is actually still in his lazy flannel pants and a t-shirt, he smiles at her. But then he must sense something in her expression because he frowns, even as Sonia and Wesley run over and join their brother.

“What happened?”

“Oh,” Leslie sniffs. “I just got some news.”

“Babe, what?” Ben’s face shows an abundance of concern and it’s just too much for her and she bursts into tears again as the triplets cuddle closer. It was their wedding day sign and now…

“Leslie?” He asks again, moving closer.

Ben picks up Sonia so that he can sit down where she was, before putting their daughter on his lap. He runs his hand gently along Leslie’s back. “Honey, what–”

“Bucky…” she pauses, looking at the small children cuddled around her, “went to live on a farm.”

“What?”

“Bucky. From Pawnee.”

Ben makes a confused face. “Bucky. Oh, was he that guy that always tried to make you smell his elbows and owned that deep fried food kiosk at the mall? You know once, I saw him deep-fry a bacon-wrapped wedge of cheese. Chris almost had a heart attack just watching that. It was–”

“No, babe. That was Barnaby, who actually is no longer around either, but Bucky was the Li'l Sebastian impersonator. Remember?”

“Oh. What? Ohhh. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“He was our wedding day sign, Ben. The reason we got married.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. We got–”

“Who’s Bucky, mommy?” Sonia asks and the leans her head against Leslie’s arm.

Leslie turns to her daughter and explains, “He was the second most amazing mini-horse in the whole wide world.”

“Can we see him?” Wesley asks excitedly.

Leslie starts crying again and all three triplets move even closer and wrap their little arms around her. Even Ben continues to run his hand along her spine, as he snuggles closer with Sonia, Wes, and Stephen to form a warm, comforting group hug around her.

“Um, Bucky is retired now,” Ben tells the kids. “But he’s very happy on a special mini-horse farm and eats carrots everyday and uri..um, plays with the other ponies. Mini horses. They are all glorious mini-horses. On a special, wonderful farm. Far, far away. Too far away to ever visit.”

“We need a mini-horse!” Stephen shouts out excitedly. “He can live in our room.”

“Oh,” Leslie’s wet eyes light up and really, even though she’s incredibly sad, she can’t help messing with Ben just a little. So, she adds, “well, that’s an interesting idea–”

“No.”


	10. Does this answer your question?

Ben walked upstairs and towards the triplets’ bedroom, hearing giggling and whispering that suspiciously stopped just as he approached the door. He had given the eight year-olds a fair but serious ultimatum–clean up their bedroom and messy closet after school or no dessert.

Pretty much the only perk of Leslie being away on an overnight trip was that he could use dessert as a bargaining chip, because when his wife was home, she vetoed any strategy that involved skipping after-dinner cookies, ice cream, cake, or cupcakes.

But with Leslie in Chicago for a meeting, their little messy monsters knew he was serious.

Around six PM, Ben pushed the just barely cracked bedroom door open the rest of the way and asked, “So, how’d we do?”

“I don’t know,” Sonia answered, trying not to giggle. She had to put her hand over her mouth to quiet herself and Ben couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Does this answer your question?” Wesley added, pulling Andy’s old marshmallow shooter from behind his back and firing a round of about ten mini-marshmallows at Ben’s stomach, as all three kids giggled and squealed with laughter.

“No,” Ben answered calmly, overcome with a troubling sense of deja vu.

And also, he still didn’t understand why a marshmallow shooter does not freak him out, but a t-shirt gun or practically anything else quickly thrown or shot at him caused him to jump out of his skin.

He knew Leslie would argue it’s the marshmallows (how could anyone be anything other than happy about marshmallows, babe?), and he grinned at the thought.

Sonia laughed again and opened the closet door wide. “Look daddy, all clean!”

And it was–the toys and games were stacked neatly and around the room, stuffed animals were on beds, with clothes folded up and put away.

“We found uncle Andy’s marshmallow shooter!” Wes told him excitedly.

“It was in the closet!” Stephen said. “It’s a good thing we cleaned!”

“We should get cookies and cake,” Sonia added, smiling widely.

“And s'mores, daddy!” said Stephen, before reaching down to pick up a marshmallow. Ben quickly walked forward and took it from him, before his son could actually eat the god-only-knows-how-old marshmallow from the floor.

“Thank you for cleaning your room and I’ll hold onto this for now,” he said, also lifting the marshmallow shooter out of Wesley’s hands. He wondered when Andy had given it to the kids. Recently?

When they were two, maybe?

Thankfully, when he took the toy away, there wasn’t much complaining. Mostly, just expectant and proud little faces, no doubt waiting to hear about their after-dinner reward.

“And dessert tonight is…cupcakes! Whaaaaaat?” Ben said enthusiastically, as all the three kids yelled and clapped around him.

Of course, he neglected to mention that the chocolate cupcakes had shredded zucchini hidden in them.


End file.
